I looked toward the living room.

Maya was teaching Liam to put wooden blocks into a basket.

He kept taking them out instead, delighted by his rebellion.

Our new home smelled of roasted vegetables, and there was a little streak of blue paint on Maya’s sleeve from a commissioned illustration.

“Sometimes,” I wrote back.

“But this is where I want to be right now.”
The answer surprised me with how uncomplicated it felt.

That weekend we drove to the coast for a day, taking blankets, sandwiches, and far too many diapers.